


Unconventional methods of communication

by Snoozydog



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Difficulty communicating normally, Holmes Brothers, Interrogation, John and Sherlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Sherlock mixing work with pleasure, Sherlock's sexlife, jealous lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoozydog/pseuds/Snoozydog
Summary: Both Holmes brothers sometimes choose unconventional methods to communicate what they want.In Mycroft’s case it is when communicating with other people, in Sherlock case it is when communicating with his brother.





	1. Chapter 1

There is a hesitant knock on the door.  
Hesitant means that his assistant has been told not to disturb him and isn’t quite sure if the reason that he’s doing so now is sufficient to actually go through with it. 

Considering the sort of man Mycroft is and how strict his orders are regarding disturbing him without adequate reason to do so, there can only really be one person waiting by his assistant’s desk, insisting upon this intrusion. The fact that this person has remained by the desk, waiting, instead of just barging in like usual, is surprising though, he’s usually never that well-mannered. 

“Come in,” Mycroft says with a sigh while he puts his fountainpen away next to a stack of documents he has just signed.  
The fact that he still insists on using a good old-fashioned pen when most of his peers sign documents with an electronic signature, is because he is fond of this so called anachronism, just like he’s fond of using galoshes when the weather is damp, a pocket watch instead of looking at the time on his phone and taking a glass of port after dinner despite the increased risk of developing gout.  
It’s habitual and comforting and more or less a tradition. 

Mycroft likes traditions, unlike his brother who detest anything even remotely recurring and consistent. Mycroft want’s goose served on Christmas day, he wants to do The Sunday Times crossword puzzle with a good cup of tea accompanied by a piece of lemon tarte in privacy and he never, as the saying goes, “wears brown in town” regarding shoe wear. His parents upbringing as well as a good education has made all of this a part of his instinctual backbone and stepping out of these habits are not easily accomplished. Hence the fountain pen.

His assistant opens the door and puts his head in, but not completely stepping inside.  
Nervous then. Even more evidence of who the source of that nervousness is.  
The man actually looks quite jumpy around the eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, Sir. I know you said you were not to be disturbed. But, your brother...he...eh...”

“Is waiting outside to be let in?” Mycroft offers.

“Well, not exactly, Sir. He isn’t here himself.”

That explains why Sherlock hasn’t barged straight in like he usually does, Mycroft dryly notes.

“He sent a...messenger, Sir. With a phone,” the assistant finishes lamely.

Mycroft raises an eyebrow at this. 

He has a feeling that he knows what this is about but the execution of getting in contact...well, it’s unusual.

He contemplates for a second how to proceed.  
Indulging his little brother’s childish whims is not advisable, it only encourages these types of antics, and yet, he always succumbs in the end. Basically because it’s Sherlock and if Mycroft doesn’t immediately respond when being sought out, it always turns infinitely worse. And messier. 

“Fine,” he finally says and leans back in his chair, clasping his hands across his abdomen. Mentally he's already bracing himself for whatever it is that is waiting behind that door.

The assistant immediately scurries off, relief written on his face and Mycroft wonders, not for the first time, when he will be able to acquire an assistant that doesn’t blanch at the first sight of trouble on the horizon. He should really put in the time to find someone of a sturdier disposition. 

The person who, less than minute later, is shown inside Mycroft’s office is a sad specimen of a human being. First of all, he's very dirty and with a rather unpleasant pong about him. Mycroft can’t help but parting his lips slightly to breathe through his mouth instead, otherwise the whole experience will be insufferable even before it has truly begun. 

With a frankly appallingly dirty hand the visitor holds forward a phone that’s thankfully put on speaker before doing so, which means that Mycroft won’t have to touch it.

“Hello?” Mycroft says without bending into the receiver while trying to avoid looking straight at the stranger in front of him. There are limits to his patience and for his brother to be sending a bum to deliver a message in this fashion is definitely chipping away at that very patience right now. 

Sherlock’s voice immediately comes at him with full force, taking charge of the room, full of accusations in his tone.

“Kidnapping a member of the police because I associated with him _once_, that’s a new low blow even for you, Mycroft!”

Mycroft takes it all in stride, this is nothing compared to the storms he has withstood over the years. This hardly qualifies as a 4 on a scale of 10. The presence of the bum is disconcerting though.

“If you’re referring to my talk with Detective Inspector Lestrade last night, I don’t see how that would be considered anything but a brotherly concern for your welfare, Sherlock. I merely asked him what his intentions were associating with you. You mention that you only met with him once, but it is your activities while doing so that causes great concern, not how many times you have met with each other. ”

Despite having a rather deep baritone voice normally, Sherlock actually manages to sound almost high-pitched. It’s the whininess that Mycroft recognises from their childhood. It means that Sherlock isn’t sufficiently angry yet, more likely just very annoyed. 

“It’s none of your business why he associates with me! If you must know I helped him catch a killer that Scotland Yard was nowhere close to getting their hands on if I hadn't pointed them in the right direction. When will you understand that you can’t micromanage my life like you do with everyone else?”

“He didn’t seem to mind talking to me at the time.”

Mycroft keeps his indifferent tone despite knowing that it risks infuriating Sherlock further. His little brother hates it when Mycroft acts condescending towards him. 

“He thought you were a lunatic! And frankly he was even more concerned for _my_ safety than for his own, he thought you were some sort of stalker or a jealous ex-boyfriend.”

This actually makes Mycroft frown a bit.

“Whatever gave him that idea? Clearly he doesn’t know you that well if he thinks you would have a boyfriend in the first place.”

“Well, a man he has never met before decides to kidnap him, bring him to an abandoned warehouse where he gets thoroughly questioned about his relationship with me, a person he met just the other day and really doesn’t know that much about beyond what little information I have given him, which isn’t much, just enough to trust me. It’s obviously bound to create some question marks. Stop meddling in my life!”

Mycroft scoffs at this.

“_Trust you_? That’s foolishness right there. Why on earth would he need to trust you? He’ll only end up deceived sooner or later if he does that.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Mycroft listens to Sherlock’s tone and notice a hint of more than just the usual desperation in it now. Sherlock’s really bothered by this recent development. He clearly detests Mycroft interfering. 

That raises some immediate alarm bells. What is Sherlock hiding that he doesn’t want Mycroft to know about?

“What are you planning to do with him?” Mycroft finally asks, after analysing what this could all possibly means. Sherlock has never shown any active interest in interacting with other people, but right now he seems positively territorial.

Sherlock’s tone comes off a little calmer now, as if he isn’t sure of the answer himself.

“I haven’t decided yet .But I think he could be very useful in the long run, so I’m planning to keep him and I don’t want you scaring him off like you usually do when I meet someone.”

Mycroft purses his lips in dislike.

“If you’re talking about that gentleman that tried offering you drugs for sexual favours, I wouldn’t call him a person you should continue to keep associating with. I thought we went through that already.”

This brings Sherlock right back to hostility again.

“I’m warning you, Mycroft. Keep your hands off my things.”

“Not sure a Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard is really categorised as a thing.”

“Don’t try me or you’ll regret it.”

Mycroft tuts at this pointless threat. They both know that Mycroft, when motivated, can be like a sniffer dog picking up a scent, he won’t give up easily and when he has found his target he doesn’t let go.

“I’m sure I would regret seeing you falling into unsuitable hands far more than whatever retaliation you might try inflicting on me. It’s always a balancing act with you, little brother.”

There’s an unmistakable sound of a growl before the line goes dead and all that is left is the poor excuse of a man still standing in the middle of the carpet, stinking up the room. Mycroft gives him a penetrating glare when he doesn’t move. 

“Was there something else?” Mycroft finally says when the status quo remains.

“He said I was to get 50 quid for doing this.”

Mycroft grits his teeth but still reaches for his wallet. He would be prepared to pay the double just to get rid of this person but refrains from saying it out loud as it could lead to Sherlock making future promises that would force Mycroft to meet with this creature again someday.

Without a single word of goodbye, the man leaves as soon as the money is being handed to him and Mycroft asks his assistant to get him a pack of sterilized wipes to clean his hands with. He’s sure he felt his fingertips touch briefly on the other man’s skin when giving the money, despite trying to do his outmost not to come in contact.

Afterwards Mycroft contemplates the status he has put Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade under. 

He’s fairly certain that the man, already at this early stage, has a latent sexual interest in his brother lingering beneath the surface, despite the very stable marital status consisting of a wife for the past 13 years and an age gap between him and Sherlock that Mycroft isn’t all that comfortable with.

But he can actually see the value, as Sherlock had put in, in letting his brother engage with this man for a little while longer as he can offer insight to crime solving on a level that is bound to pique Sherlock’s interest, however incomprehensible that interest is to Mycroft. It might even keep Sherlock off the streets and the drugs for a little while. 

He brings up the file he has on the Detective Inspector on his computer and tells his assistant, when he returns with the sterilized wipes, to put the man’s surveillance status to grade 2. Sherlock will hopefully not know of this move straight away and Mycroft is certain that the Detective himself won’t notice at all. 

When Mycroft, two months later, sees footage of the pair engaging in a surprisingly normal act of sexual intercourse in Sherlock’s ratty flat at Montague Street, he strongly dislikes it, even for a brief second contemplating to do away with the Detective Inspector or inform his wife of this new development. But then, with a deep sigh he decides against it for now, especially considering the fact that Mrs Lestrade is currently sleeping with a colleague from work and most likely wouldn’t care what he her husband is up to.  
So instead, Mycroft leaves it for now and upgrades surveillance status to level 3.


	2. Chapter 2

His new assistant does still knock, like the previous one used to do, but instead of waiting for him to answer, she is confident enough to know when no answer is needed and the knock is merely a formality, a way of letting him know that she’s coming in.

“Sir. We have a little situation happening outside in the corridor. It’s your brother. Or rather a friend of his, said with the most generous flexibility of that word.”

Mycroft sighs and automatically brings his thumb and index finger to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

Despite 5 years having passed since the first time this happened, the memory is still deeply ingrained in Mycroft and although he doesn’t know yet if this is a repeat performance of that event, a shudder of discomfort goes through his backbone at the memory. 

The carpet has been replaced since then and some of the furniture are new, but it is still the same office. He’s hoping to upgrade to better quarters soon, but for now, this is what he’s got. 

The reason why he knows this is most likely a rerun of past events is because his own conduct has mirrored those he made back then. Not the same warehouse but more or less the same operation, just a different man.  
And like then, Sherlock does not take lightly to Mycroft interfering. 

The only uncertain element might be if it’s going be the same man that has come as the messenger.

As it turns out, it is.

It is a little surprising considering his homeless status and the frankly arctic winter they have just left behind them. He does indeed look even more worn now, the unwashed, greasy hair hanging in stripes over his eyes, more or less the same clothes, just more frayed and stained. There’s gaping hole at the left knee of what constitutes as trousers, even if Mycroft can’t possibly be certain of what they really are. They could very well be some sort of homemade design out of a burlap sack. They look uncomfortably itchy when giving them a quick glance, so Mycroft decides to do as he did the last time and focus on anything but the man in front of him. Luckily for him, there is a phone held out under his nose this time as well and focus can be put on that instead. 

This phone is naturally not the same as back then. Sherlock, despite his constant lack of incoming funds, always has the latest phone and this one is at least ten models newer than that last one Mycroft was forced to speak into, held up in front of him by a dirty hand.

This time, the stench isn’t as fetid as it was back then. Mycroft wonders if perhaps a bath at a homeless shelter is the reason for this. The man doesn’t look clean in the sense that Mycroft would describe as being clean, but there is at least something to be said about the lack of obvious odour. Small blessings and all that.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft says calmly into the air, waiting for whatever show his brother is about to put on this time.   
Despite the years passing, Sherlock doesn’t seem to grow up when it comes to certain aspects of politeness and common decency. That he chooses to communicate like this when he is too angry to actually face Mycroft or can’t be bothered to swallow his pride and phone him up like a normal person on Mycroft’s private phone, speaks volumes. This is the spectacle he ops for instead. 

It’s easier to be in control of a situation by sending a person of such obvious lower social rank and appalling appearance that refusing him access to Mycroft would be frowned upon by sheer politeness and compassion. Mycroft is certain that if he was to try it, Sherlock will have instructed the man to make as much noise about it as possible, making a spectacle out of Mycroft in front of his colleagues. This is far worse than if Sherlock had sent the man to the Diogenes. There, everyone would have been in favour of simply turning the man away at the door, here it’s considered a sensitive topic. 

As expected, Sherlock goes off on a tangent the second he hears Mycroft voice.

“Why are you harassing my flatmate? I just acquired him and you’re already trying to scare him away?”

Mycroft has no problem remaining calm when faced with confrontation.

“I did no such thing. I merely found it strange that a man who had known you less than a day decided to follow you so wholehearted into danger. That was before I was even aware that he was willing to kill for you. His motives are still highly unclear to me. Prone to look for danger is still not a fully satisfactory reason in my book.”

“Does it matter? You’re always harping on about me needing someone to look out for me and then when I find that person, you immediately try to scare him off. Sheer luck he wasn’t intimidated by you despite giving him the warehouse treatment as well as trying to bribe him to spy on me.”

“I’m glad that you see the extraordinary in that situation. That’s surprisingly loyal for a person who doesn’t truly know you at all, but so far is at least aware that you surround yourself with death, murderers and violence on any common weekday. Imagine what he thinks you do for fun on the weekends.”

Sherlock is not impressed by Mycroft little jest.

“Stop it, Mycroft, humour is clearly not your forte.”

“And human nature is clearly not yours. What do you even know of him?”

“Sufficiently to realise that he could be very useful. Besides, I need someone to share the rent now that you’ve cut me off. Again.”

“That was for your own benefit and you know it.”

“All I know is that you’re using that trust fund as a way of trying to control me but I’m not playing that game anymore. I have solved the money situation myself. So, it would be much appreciated if you could crawl back under the rock you came from so we can all go back to running our own lives without your interference.”

Not giving up so easily, Mycroft changes topic.   
He has read the report of his brother’s actions from the past 24 hours and decides to circle in on a slightly different topic than the obviously dangerous one regarding the terminally ill serial killer with the poisonous pills. Instead he focuses on a smaller but still noteworthy detail that has caught his attention. 

“I heard Lestrade came by your flat to perform a drugs bust last night? Is there actual concern on his part or is it jealousy talking?”

Sherlock snorts at this but Mycroft knows things have been a little strained as of late between the Detective Inspector and his brother. He doesn’t know the reason for it, but the fact that Lestrade didn’t call Sherlock immediately when the serial poisoner began his killing spree speaks volumes. 

Mycroft wonders if it is because Sherlock, after losing his lease at Montague Street, didn’t decide to move in with Lestrade but instead wanted a place of his own. That he has also now acquired himself a flatmate as well, another man no less, who Sherlock took with him not only to an Italian restaurant but also to a crime scene yesterday, something that has previously been unheard of, might very well have woken the Detective Inspector’s jealousy or at least his suspicion. Mycroft doesn't know how Lestrade stands regarding possessivness but suspects that if his much younger lover suddenly moves in with another man and starts solving crimes with him instead, it will not go down very well. 

Mycroft can actually relate. 

He doesn’t feel even remotely relieved that Sherlock has found himself a flatmate, certainly not someone like Former Army Captain and Doctor John Watson, a man who still carries an illegal firearm from his active army days but who also was discharged not only because of the injury he received in the shoulder, but also because of a serious case of PTSD combined with enormous trust issues and some anger management problems to top it all off. Joined with someone like Sherlock, that’s bound to spell catastrophe. 

If there is indeed a reason for the doctor being so loyal this quickly and the reason is something as base as a sexual attraction or something equally insipid, things can go wrong very quickly. Throw the element of Lestrade into the mix and it will become absolutely explosive. 

Sherlock isn’t made for things like that.   
Contestants on one of those reality shows were people parade around in skimpy swimwear and have sex on camera might be equipped for it, but his little brother certainly is not. 

Considering his past and the frailty he has shown regarding interactions with other people, combined with his dormant habit of turning to drugs at every difficulty thrown his way, this is a dangerous path to be walking down. Sherlock as usual does not see the danger and recklessly barges on. 

Mentally Mycroft is wringing his hands over this. Outwardly he keeps his indifferent tone. He knows he’s speaking to deaf ears anyway. 

“All I ask is that you don’t jump into things that you haven’t slightest idea how to get out of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I tell you. Don’t be stupid, Sherlock.”

This always has the same effect regrettably. It’s what they do after all, Mycroft isn’t capable of backing away when he want to intervene and Sherlock can’t help but take offense for bering treated like a child. None of them listens to the other.

“Make another move against him and you’ll regret it,” Sherlock hisses and then ends the call abruptly. The show is apparently over for now. 

Mycroft searches his pocket for the wallet and produces the expected 50 pounds, but the man shakes his head vigorously, those greasy strands of hair flapping about around his face.

“He said 100 quid.”

Mycroft sight and adds another 50. Then he brings forth another 100.

“This is for you if you promise to not come by here again. My brother needs to learn that he has to come himself if he wants to communicate with me. Or better yet, call me the normal way, on my phone. This is just childish.”

_But effective_, he thinks to himself as his visitor grabs the additional money and turns to leave. Because despite not knowing how to deal with this and certainly not backing away regarding surveillance and intel of his brother's actions, he will heed Sherlock’s wishes for the moment and not kidnap John Watson within the next week or two. 

Unless something unexpected happens of course. Which it normally does where his brother is concerned. 

With a sigh he brings up the file on John Watson and looks at the man staring back at him from the screen. Mycroft already upgraded his status last night, at the crime scene, to stage 3. He secretly wonders if he will be forced to rethink that decision soon.

As Mycroft, six months later, sees footage of John kissing Sherlock, pressed against a brick wall in a back alley after a very adrenaline-fuelled run through the streets of London, chasing down a jewellery thief and Lestrade catches them in the act, Mycroft pinches the bridge of his nose once more while contemplating how well Sherlock would actually do in one of those reality shows with the skimpy swim wear and the sex in front of the cameras. 

As he lets the surveillance status remain a solid 3 on Sherlock but raises it to a critical 4 regarding John Watson when he sees the rage explode in Detective Inspector Lestrade’s features, he secretly wonders if his brother wouldn’t actually pull it off pretty well, both the tight swimming trunks as well as showing off his love life in front of a camera.


End file.
